


Snake Eyes

by SeerOfVoid



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeerOfVoid/pseuds/SeerOfVoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I only ever wanted to become a pokemon trainer, and Team Rocket welcomed me with open arms. I knew nothing about them or the skeletons in their closet, but if I had I would had known to swallow a shotgun and pull the trigger before it all came crashing down. Power corrupts and the taller you stand, the harder you fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chrome

**Author's Note:**

> The first two chapters of this were completed a while back and I've only made small edits since I first began posting them on fanfiction.net, so someday I'll get around to rewriting them both. If there's a huge style difference between chapters two and three I apologize.
> 
> "Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."  
> -George Bernard Shaw

The artificial lights shining over my head reminded me vaguely of the bright hospital lights back home. Hospitals weren't unknown to me – my parents worked in one, after all – but nothing about the Rocket center suggested healing. None of the trainers passing by had an amiable look to them, from their expressions to their wardrobes. The Rocket uniforms a few wore were a sooty shade of black coupled with aggressive red highlights, definitely not colors that inspired a sense of security.

On the far end of the entrance lay what I knew from my previous visit to be the main desk. The middle-aged lady controlling it didn't look up from her typing as I approached. The machamp looming behind her, however, wouldn't take its eyes off me. I pondered briefly as to whether or not it could detect my increased heartbeat or the sudden churning in my stomach, but decided that it didn't matter. The years of Unovan therapy had trained me not to panic at the sight of fighting types.

Like I was doing now.

Well, I wasn't really panicking, but it was huge and bulky and the brute had _four goddamn arms_...

"Can I help you, miss?" the lady snapped irritably. I nearly flinched, but kept myself steady. If there was one thing I couldn't do, it was show fear. Not that I was afraid or anything.

I crossed my arms and ignored the menacing glare coming from behind the witch. "Yeah," I replied. "I applied for a trainer's license and Team Rocket membership last week, you guys told me to return today...?" Realizing my stance radiated hostility, I allowed a confident smile to spread across my face. These people respected strong people, not trembling little girls.

She clicked her plastic fingernails against the desk. I recalled a documentary about charmeleons I'd watched in a pokemon biology class. In some regions filled with scorching hot caves, they would click their claws against the rocky walls to lure curious prey before ultimately roasting them alive. That was what she reminded me of, an underground chameleon wearing an obscene amount of makeup.

"This is Celadon City, _dear_. I don't memorize every new recruit who comes through here. You'll have to show me your forms so I can look up your files."

I wanted to throw a fit about her patronizing tone, but the presence of the machamp instantly crushed that idea. I still avoided looking at it. "I never _got_ any forms back."

"Oh, really? Then I'm afraid that if you still wish to apply, you'll need to fill out the paperwork again." Her tone conveyed concern, but I detected a hint of malice. The charmeleon bitch was enjoying this! If it wasn't for that machamp, I would... Well, I wouldn't actually do anything, but I would still be pissed.

Machamp or not, however, becoming a trainer had been my dream ever since my parents steered me away from that path. I was so close already, there was no way a four-armed freak would get between me and my trainer's license. I was already sixteen, way past the normal training age.

And not to mention, if my aunt found out that I went against my parent's wishes after what happened...

No, this simply would _not_ do. I wouldn't back down now. "Come on," I groaned. "I already spent an hour completing all that fucking paperwork, and now you want me to do it over again just because _you_ screwed up?"

Instantly I regretted my words in case the machamp decided I was too much trouble and would be easier to handle when torn in half, but I wasn't damned to an early grave quite yet. As soon as the charmeleon lady's eyes narrowed, someone coughed behind me.

Though I had been bracing myself for something to go horribly wrong (likely involving that damned pokemon), I definitely didn't expect anything from behind and flinched despite myself. The desk lady hadn't seen his approach either; she appeared equally startled and immediately stood up whilst stammering.

"Ah! Brutus, sir! Mr. Kurosawa requested to see you once you arrived, and the -"

"Yes, I've taken care of that." I considered turning around to look at the mystery speaker. His name sounded ridiculous – I doubted that any parent would name their child that, so it must had been his trainer's name.

"You know," he continued. "While we're on the subject, I've heard that Mr. Kurosawa has been _very_ displeased with your harassment of new trainers."

"Harassment?! I-"

"I could hear you all the way across the room, and unless you're insinuating that one of us has gone stupid, we both know you were lying to the girl." He sauntered next to me to lean against the desk, and I took a second to glance warily at him. Younger than I had expected, perhaps a few years older than me, he still cast an appearance menacing enough to make the machamp look away. Many powerful trainers were still only young adults, but it nonetheless unsettled me to see such a strong pokemon shy away from the trainer.

It would had been a terrible idea to continue staring, so I fixed my gaze down on the desk. Near the edge, I noted a smudge of something next to an empty plate which could have been ketchup, if not the blood of the machamp's last victim. Probably just ketchup, though.

"Really? Why don't we just ask her, then?" I felt the weight of three pairs of eyes and realized that I had zoned out when I should had been paying explicit attention. Whoops.

"Alright, fine! Look, kid, you'll need to go see Lionel West, he's in charge of the new people." She let out a dramatic sigh and examined her computer screen as if it suddenly fascinated her, but her indignation remained obvious. I had no idea how I would find this new person without directions or my forms (though, at this point I was beginning to suspect that there had been no needed forms to begin with), but once again the other trainer saved me.

Well, he more of startled me half to death by squeezing my shoulder, but it had the same outcome. "C'mon, then. I was heading that way anyway." He held on for only a few seconds, but the touch lingered long enough to feel the sheer strength in his grip. Why were great trainers always strong? It was like they worked out alongside their pokemon.

...maybe they did. I wasn't exactly an expert on the subject.

He led me down a series of uniform hallways that I surely would had gotten lost in on my own. "So, uh..." I had no idea what to say to someone who intimidated a machamp. "Thanks for that."

"No problem. We're not all like that, but her feathers are ruffled easily. Anyway, I had nothing better to do, I'm just waiting for the doctors to heal my crawdaunt." All of the menace in his voice had vanished, now he sounded almost cheerful.

I didn't mind crawdaunt, but I hoped I wouldn't get something like that for a starter. The pincers were just... weird. "You have a crawdaunt? Will it be okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine. We just got in a rougher fight than usual. You'll get in plenty of those, though. How long have you been training?"

"I haven't started yet," I admitted. "Parents made me stay in school until now. I was kind of hoping to get a starter here."

"Oh, really? Well, I'll tell West to give you one of the good ones. And come see me if you're still in the city by next week, I might even be able to throw a job your way." He sounded genuinely interested in me, which I figured to be beneficial. Even with a team like Rocket backing me up, I'd need allies for support.

Upon reaching a door with a small window, he didn't bother to knock before entering. "Hey, West! I've got someone applying for their license here!"

I followed. Facing us stood an older man holding a sandshrew. He wore a lab coat rather than an official Rocket uniform, but it was clear that he was someone important. "Hello Curtis," he greeted. "I was just testing this sandshrew. Did you know tha-"

Brutus – or Curtis – interrupted: " _West_." His tone retained its light quality while still being several shades darker than before. I couldn't tell if he was playing around or seriously threatening the professor.

"My apologies, _Brutus_. I'll just get this girl set up, then. I wasn't aware that you were so interested in our female recruits. I'll admit that-"

Once again he was interrupted. "I'll be leaving," Brutus growled. Without looking at me, he slammed the door hard enough to make the sandshrew hiss.

I coughed awkwardly. Had I done something wrong? Seeing my confusion, West chuckled. "Don't worry about him, it's practically one of my jobs to give him a hard time. He named himself after a damned Shakespeare play, after all! I'm Professor West."

Letting out a relieved breath, I introduced myself. My confidence swelled now that I felt secure.

The professor proceeded to type something into his computer. Presumably, he was looking at my files. The baby sandshrew mewled at me. I offered it a hand to sniff, then regretted it when it licked me with a tongue like sandpaper.

"You're already accepted, with all the benefits of a registered trainer. Just choose a name and I can give you a starter, if you want one, and your ID and pokedex."

I let the sandshrew have my fingers. "Name?"

"You know, your trainer's name. Or you could stick with your real name, but most new trainers like to start fresh."

A long respected tradition called for trainers to go by fierce nicknames rather than their actual names. Over time, laws had been passed to allow these to become secondary legal names of sorts. It made identifying trainers a lot easier as well as prevented bitter rivals from taking revenge on the other's family.

"Uh..." As much as I'd dreamed of training, I'd never considered the details. "I just want something simple."

"Right. Well, some gemstone names have recently become available." Which meant that the trainers with those nicknames had died.

"Like what, Sapphire? Come on, I'm not a prostitute!" And I refused to steal a dead trainer's nickname.

He found that incredibly amusing. "Fine, you have a point!" Pointing at the chain I wore, he asked, "You like silver?"

"I guess, but I don't want that name." I rubbed the dog tags together. They weren't something I wanted to discuss.

Typing something else, West replied, "Silver is already taken. I wanted to suggest Chrome. It's pretty, isn't it? And it's simple. People will remember you that way. Some very successful trainers named themselves after colors and metals, you know."

"Well..." I pulled my hand away from the sandshrew. It whined, but my fingers already felt sore. "At least it's not a Shakespeare character. I guess I could make it work..."

"Great! Your training ID card will start printing, but let's get you a starter. Have anything in mind?"

He ushered me into a side room. While appearing to be a closet from inside his office, it turned out to be spacious and packed to the ceiling with shelves full of pokeballs. Several other doors led into other rooms or hallways. I tried to pick up one of the pokeballs, but the heat radiating from it nearly burned my fingers.

"Ouch! I haven't given it much thought. Not a fan of fighting types, so none of those. I just don't want anything... I dunno, weak?"

Reaching up to rummage from a box on a higher shelf, West laughed. "Well, no one ever really wants a weak pokemon, now do they? You won't know until you train it. I once saw a badly trained scyther beaten by a little weedle. Power is about the trainer as much as it is about the pokemon. We don't give scyther to new trainers, but you get the idea."

I failed to imagine something as vicious as a scyther losing to a weedle. My heart beat heavier in my chest. What if I chose the strongest pokemon in the room, but it turned out weak because of me? I knew absolutely nothing about training, there was no way I could be like Brutus or one of those famous trainers.

"Keep in mind," West continued. "No one ever bothers to label these pokeballs, so it's sort of like a lottery."

"...you're joking, right?"

The only response I received was an amused snort. "This one feels like a water type. Let's see what it is!"

A bright flash filled the room, indicating that the pokeball was either of low quality or currently set to max brightness. Probably the former. I definitely didn't want a cheap pokeball, since a bright flash like that in the wild could potentially cause feral pokemon to maul you.

I had no time to dwell on pokeball quality, however, since the pokemon which plopped on the floor looked nowhere near happy. If anything, it wanted to murder everything in sight. Which meant me. The pissed off tentacool flailed its tentacles, smacking me in the gut multiple times. I dropped to my knees, wheezing from the excessive force, then realized with a jolt that I had a few seconds before it strangled me.

"West!" The damn maniac was still shifting through the box, not paying the slightest bit of attention to what he had unleashed! "Get this thing back inside! Shit!" With its tentacles wrapped around my neck, I focused on breathing rather than mindlessly shrieking. I tried to pull the slimy appendages away from my throat, but my actions enraged it further.

"Hm?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw West finally taking an interest in the current events. He swiftly clicked a button on the pokeball, which enveloped the tentacool in a soft red glow before containing it. I gasped for breath, figuring that I had a new appreciation for life.

"Well, it's certainly strong. Want it?"

I glared at him. "What!? Are you kidding me?" My throat would be aching for days because of that thing, there was no way I would train it.

"It's still young! If it only took a few seconds to nearly strangle you to death, imagine how much damage it'll do to enemies when it grows!" He spoke lightly, as if it hadn't just attempted to kill me.

"Absolutely not!" I groaned. "Just... just find something that doesn't want to destroy me, okay?"

A few mutters about ungratefulness drifted across from room, but other than that he gave no reply. The next pokemon he released was a zubat that screeched so shrilly he dropped its pokeball. He dropped down to retrieve it and left me to fend for myself. Aiming for exposed skin, it swooped at me twice before West shot the pokeball's red beam at it. Even then, it managed to avoid the beam several times before attempting to dive at me again, at which point West managed to hit it with the light.

Thank Arceus I decided to wear a hoodie that day. Judging that it might be safe for the moment, I lowered the hood I had covered my head with, not even caring about the condition of my hair.

A natural optimist, West began to look through more pokeballs. "How about you pick one this time? Third one's the charm."

"What, because the two you picked were vicious monsters?" I snapped. Nonetheless, I was eager to choose a pokeball. I knelt down to examine one of the bottom shelves. My fingers swept across a messy row of dusty spheres. Most of them had different feels, ranging from a dry heat to dampness to a thin layer of ice, but none of them felt _right_.

Layers of dust settled on my fingertips as I searched, but none of the pokeballs struck me as particularly lucky. Behind me I could heard West moving to a different shelf. Higher up I found another pokeball iced over. I disregarded it, however, since I didn't want an ice type as a starter. Knowing my luck, it would freeze me in the middle of the night.

My attention turned to a different shelf. Another pokeball gave me a small shock. The next one unsettled me ever so slightly, making my skin crawl for whatever reason. I pushed them both to the side. This was difficult. I didn't want a starter that would be impossible to train.

I looked away and picked a pokeball at random. This one didn't give me any weird feelings. That wasn't a good thing. If a pokemon was truly meant for me, wouldn't I feel the connection? None of them were giving me a mystical feeling, though, so I didn't set the pokeball down. Maybe this was the one after all. I could sense West staring in my direction, waiting for me to release the pokemon.

With a heavy sigh, I put the pokeball back. After a second, it was back in my hands. "You won't know what it is until you open it," West reminded me. I knew he spoke the truth. Before my mind agreed to open it, my fingers pressed the button to release it.

I perceived the pokemon flashing into existence, but the low rattling that the pokeball produced caught my attention first. I blinked in confusion, but promptly came to realize that the sound originated from the ekans glowering at me on the other side of the room. Wrapped around a shelf pole, it looked to be nearly three feet long. Its slitted eyes were a deep shade of amber and filled with sharp intelligence, fitting for a snake. As if hypnotized, I returned its hostile gaze.

"Want it?" West questioned, but I barely heard him. The ekans opened its mouth in warning. The fangs certainly looked painful, but I didn't care. It wasn't trying to kill me! Sure, it was about to, but it had so far resisted the urge to brutally mutilate me. That was a good start.

Hearing my real name being called out, I glanced at West. He switched names: "Alright then, _Chrome_. This one looks clever enough, and it'll grow considerably if you feed it right. You won't know what special abilities it'll get until it evolves, but even if that doesn't work out it looks strong already."

Of course. An arbok had special abilities based on the patterns on its hood. There were six common patterns around Kanto, but other regions and countries had different patterns which signified various things. "It's way better than a stupid tentacool."

" _He_. Females have tiny rattles, but his is large."

"Right," I murmured. Cautiously walking towards the snake, I held out a hand. Trust issues could always be worked out later, but I wanted to at least be able to hold it. Despite my most sincere look, it hissed at me in increased volume. "C'mon, I'm not going to hurt you," I whispered.

"It probably won't take to you right away," West warned. "It's an ekans, not a jigglypuff."

I persisted, however, and continued to speak to it. "What, would you rather be trapped in this room for the rest of your life? I'm not here to hurt you, I just want to take care of you!" I retracted my hand when it snapped, nearly catching my fingers. As much as I wanted to pet it, those fangs were a bit too long for my liking.

West tremendously enjoyed the situation. "Kid, if the snake doesn't kill you, then I'm sure you'll survive!"

"Please stop."

"Why? This is hiss-terical!"

At least I knew the ekans possessed the intelligence to understand human speech, since it shot West an even nastier look than it had given me.

And while I had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get rougher, there was one important thing that I had achieved today.

"West, I'm a trainer now, right?"

"You have a single pokemon that won't even listen to you, but yeah. You are."

I wasn't a vapid student anymore. I was going to be Chrome, the fearsome Team Rocket trainer with her ferocious arbok.


	2. To Trust a Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A dream doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work."  
> -Colin Powell

Training with my ekans... it didn't turn out well.

I spent the rest of the morning after I chose him shopping for pokeballs and supplies at one of the nearby stores, since no one at Team Rocket expected me to do any real work until I was a bit more powerful. For now I would train outside the city, where the pokemon were weak, but later I planned on hiking further into the wilderness.

Once I had myself a nice clearing in the surrounding forest, I let my ekans out of its pokeball. I expected (hoped) it to eagerly await my instructions. As my starter pokemon, it would be anticipating our first battle together. Sure, it was a little... callous towards me, but once it saw my overwhelming (nonexistent) trust it would warm up towards me.

The pokemon wasn't so cheerful. As soon as it blinked into existence, it curled into a coil and raised its head in preparation to strike. I wasn't in biting distance, but I might as well had been for the way it bared its fangs.

It was a he. I really needed to pick a name for the guy, but my mind came up blank whenever I thought about it. His scales were a dark orchid shade of purple, but all of the names relating to that were stupid and girlish.

"Hi ekans," I greeted. Perhaps if I raised the volume of my voice, he would listen to me? "Listen up! We're going to have our first battle together!"

I received no reply, but the constant hissing was probably him agreeing in weird snake language.

"Alright, then! This forest is filled with birds. You prey on those, so why not start with a pidgey? Okay, Alexander?"

When I was a kid, one of my best friends was named Alexander. The ekans apparently hadn't had the same experience; upon hearing the name, he threw me a look of clear disgust. The name _was_ a bit pompous, so I decided to go with my pokemon's judgment.

"Right, sorry." I apologized. "I'm not sure what to call you. I'm open to suggestions, though...?" He only continued hissing. I responded, "That's not a name, you know. If you don't have any input on this, you just won't have one 'til I figure something out."

What did people name their giant purple snakes, anyway? I could always go with Fang, but that sounded even worse than Alexander. His rattle didn't inspire me when it came to names, and the same went for his colors. If only he could be female...

Wait a second.

I didn't hear rattling. He looked pissed as hell, but maybe that was his normal look? I could get used to that.

It was then that I noticed the rattata sniffing my shoe. Taking notice of me as well, it glanced up, twitched its whiskers, and returned to shuffling around my feet.

"Ekans, come on!" I yelled. "This can be our first battle together!"

My ekans was shorter than I was, but somehow he managed to look down on me when I suggested this. His disdainful look said it all. The rattata seemed equally uncaring of the giant snake sitting nearby. It had likely accustomed itself to trainers with pokemon.

I tried goading him a few more times, then snapped, "This is pathetic! You're a goddamn snake, you eat mice! Are you seriously letting a rattata get the best of you?"

That struck a chord. As it turned out, my ekans had a sense of pride and would _not_ stand to be insulted. He slithered closer and loomed over the rattata, which had since moved away from me. At the sight of the ekans, it puffed itself out and snarled back, baring two gigantic teeth nearly too big to fit inside its mouth.

"Start with a poison sting!" He only knew a few moves, and I wasn't even sure if he would follow my instructions.

His fangs, when he opened his mouth as far as it would go, were more like knives than teeth. And then there was the venom... I wasn't sure if he chose to use the move because of my orders or his own free will, or if he even knew what the move was, but at least he was attacking. When he bit down, the rattata _screamed_ in pain, thrashing its claws in a desperate attempt to free itself. My ekans bit down for only a second, but the shrieks made it seem like an hour.

I balled my hands into fists, uneasy about the rattata's injury. It sprang into the air to tackle, but its movements were laggard and my ekans easily avoided the attack. I moved my lips to shout an order, then instead of speaking merely let out a shaky breath.

He didn't need any orders. As the enemy's attack brought it within range, he wrapped himself around the prey and began to squeeze. I watched, speechless. Its eyes bulged from its sockets, and the cries turned into whimpers then soundless gasps. The longer my ekans squeezed, the more blood trickled from the rattata's mouth.

I found my voice. "Let go!" I cried. When my pokemon ignored me, I said louder, "That was a command! Let it go!"

Still no response. At the top of my lungs, in a voice that would make my favorite band (Decapitated Magmar, which was quite possibly the greatest metal band in Kanto) proud, I screamed, "Ekans! Let it go, or Arceus help me, I am going to flay you and make a new pair of boots! Now, you fucking snake!"

Although I had probably just surprised him that my voice could reach such a high volume, he loosened and released the rattata. It limped away as fast as it could, not daring to look back. I wondered briefly if it would survive.

From the look the ekans gave me, I knew that he had only mauled the rat to get to me. He absolutely hated me, and instead of escaping he was going to make my life hell.

Fucking snake. Why couldn't I had chosen the nice tentacool?

One good thing came from our first battle together, at least.

I learned how to control the ekans. As it turned out, he had a _huge_ sense of pride. The rest of the day, all it took was an injured pride to unleash him upon whatever helpless creature crossed our path. We stayed within the safe areas with weak pokemon, but none of their attacks fazed him in the slightest.

Actually, I didn't have the slightest inkling as to why he never turned on me. He continued to disobey my orders, ignoring the attacks I shouted and fighting after we had already won the battle (though never to the point of nearly killing it like with the first rattata). Despite this, he didn't so much as brush against me, preferring to instead shoot me hateful glances or ignore me entirely. The only things he listened to were my insults towards his pride.

I didn't know what I was going to do when another trainer picked a fight with us. At best, they would laugh at my lack of control. At worst, he would kill their pokemon and I would be in deep shit. Either way I needed to find a way to get him under control. The idea of killing made me uncomfortable, much less killing another person's beloved pokemon.

If needed, I assumed I would be able to trade him in for something a little easier to control, but that was a last resort.

...no, that wasn't even an option. Not only would it make me look like a pathetic, it would also mean I had failed my starter. It was one thing if a captured wild pokemon didn't work out, but a starter?

"Hey." His eyes flickered towards me for a brief second, but he quickly pretended to ignore me.

I shielded my eyes from the sun with a single hand and gazed at the sky. As bright as it was, the sun had definitely fallen since I last checked. The moon would soon ascend, and I didn't want to be in the forest at night with no company except for the ekans.

"It's almost sunset," I said. "I don't trust you around other people, so return." The pokeball's red glow enveloped him before he could react. I pocketed the device, wondering if he would had fought back if given the opportunity. Maybe he was afraid of being trapped, and that was why he was so difficult? Or he could fear trainers. Both thoughts, while cliché, were better than believing he was just an ass.

It only occurred to me as I reentered the city that I didn't have anywhere to stay for the night. Even if I wanted to go back to my aunt, she didn't live in Celadon City. The hotel I had stayed at for the past week was too expensive to reserve another night. I needed to save the rest of my money for training expenses.

Food first. I needed somewhere cheap. The clearance isle of restaurants. Pokecenters had extended comfort areas for trainers waiting for healing. These served cheap food and I was starving.

The first Pokecenter I stumbled across, an impressive building located conveniently close to the city entrance, bustled with trainers. I squeezed inside and avoided the line of trainers waiting to turn their pokeballs in. The ekans didn't need healing, and even if he did I feared that he might attack whatever poor soul released him.

The nurse didn't spare me a glance, she could barely keep up with the other trainers. My stomach couldn't resist the aroma drifting from an adjoining room. I could only imagine what my ekans would do if he smelled it. Would he be able to tell the difference between my fingers and the smell of food? He could easily bite off a good number of digits, if not my entire hand.

I seated myself at an empty window table. Other trainers lounged with their pokemon, but there was no way I could let the ekans free. Some kid younger than me held a nidoran in his lap and giggled as it licked sauce from his fingers. I stared in undisguised envy. My fingers would be gone if I tried that.

What if I captured one of the pokemon my ekans defeated? The rattata were weak and common, but all the good pokemon were rare. The only other things I might stumble across were a couple bellsprout or the occasional oddish, which I didn't want. There were always caves nearby, I could check one out in case something awesome had made a lair inside...

My head snapped away from the window when another girl slid in the seat across from me. Before doing anything she tossed away her white cap and brushed her fingers through long, tan hair. She then waved at me and threw a hand across the table. I eyed it warily until she grabbed my own and shook it vigorously.

"Aren't you going to get something to eat?" she asked. Damn, how had she known I was hungry? Right on cue my stomach grumbled louder than a starved snorlax. I looked away in embarrassment, but she only laughed and smiled knowingly.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I was just waiting til, uh..."

She snatched a paper nestled on the windowsill and handed it to me. "A menu," she explained. I only had a few seconds to scan through it before she gestured at a nearby chansey. "Can I have whatever soup is cooking? And a grilled cheese for my ditto."

I pointed enthusiastically to a picture on the inside of the menu. The chansey made a sweet sound that I took for an affirmative and scurried away.

The girl took out a pokeball and set it on the table. "What's in it?" I asked, but she didn't answer. I looked up at her with the best begging face I could muster.

She winked and pressed the button. What came out was one of the weirdest things I had seen in Kanto. Instead of a pokemon it was a squiggling ball of slime, and it... it had a face? Oh dear arceus it was looking at me. Its weird mouth twisted up in what I assumed to be a predatory grin. The girl caught my expression. "What, you've never seen one of these before?"

"We don't have many grimer in Unova."

"Grimer?! You're going to hurt his feelings!"

I examined the ball of goo. "Are you sure it's a he?"

"He likes to be a he."

It crawled towards my hand. I considered moving said appendage off the table and as far away from the creature as possible, but I suspected the girl would slap me. It didn't feel gross on my fingers, more like a cooked egg than slime, but it was still weird. And pink. Grimer looked filthier than this girly thing. I refused to see it as cute.

"I've never heard of... what was it again?" It was true, I hadn't.

"Ditto. I've heard they're spreading, but they're mostly here in Kanto. And they're hard to find if you don't know what you're looking for."

Maybe it wasn't as bad as I first thought. "His name's Jeff," she told me. It- he had a face that totally wasn't cute once I got past the fact that he was a ball of goo. Not cute at all. I didn't like cute things, I liked badass things.

The chansey came with our food quicker than expected. I admired its ability to carry all the plates, but I supposed it had been trained to do so. The girl winked at me as she handed the pokemon a bit of money, saying she would pay for the both of us. I didn't complain about the free food.

And man, did this chicken look good. It even came with sides. I took a few gulps from my water as I tried to determine what to eat first.

"You have any pokemon?"

I held up my pokeball. "One."

"And he's not eating with you?!"

"Uh..." How did I explain to her that my ekans was a ferocious monster? It would eat her ditto alive. Not only that, but it would smell the chicken on me and take a chunk out of my face second.

Without warning, she swiped the pokeball and pressed the button. My breath caught in my throat. Here it came, my ekans, all that was unholy and murderous...

_Shit._

I half stood in my seat and pressed myself as far away from the table as possible. Something less of a scream than it was a squeak came out of me. I couldn't afford the medical bills after it mauled her, or the burial fee if it murdered her. Oh god I was about to become one of _those_ trainers who lost control.

The confrontation lasted shorter than expected. My ekans lifted his head and hissed lowly at the girl, but the sounds gradually turned to a low hum as she scratched his chin.

My face must had screamed confusion because she asked, "What's up with you? Sit down!"

"I... what are you doing?! He'll bite you!"

He smacked my arm with the tip of his tail. I yelped and rubbed the angry red spot. Stupid snake. "Are you kidding?" She ignored his attack. "He's a sweetie. Trust me, I know it when I see it. How long have you been together?"

"Got him this morning. And he's _not_ sweet. He's a monster. He-"

She was the one who slapped me this time. "Don't say that! You're never going to get him to trust you if all you do is insult him!" She glared at me with as much venom as the ekans. Her eyes were green, I noticed. The brightest green I had ever seen in someone's eyes.

"Now, what's his name?"

"Dunno."

"Ugh. You didn't even name him?"

I threw up my arms. "I can't think of one! He didn't like anything I suggested!" In my agitation, I clutched my dog tags tightly.

She reached over to uncurl my fist. "Just this one little thing, okay? Give him a name. That's all I'm asking."

Turning my gaze to the dark streets beyond the window, I considered this. I did owe her for paying. The girl fed my ekans pieces of my chicken as she waited. My stomach complained about this, but I doubted she would let me eat until I named him. The first thing that came to my mind was stupid, but I was hungry and needed my food before he took it all.

"What do you think of Seb? That's what my brother named his starter. Well, he named it Sebastian, but-"

She beamed at me. "I love it! Perfect for an ekans." No response from said ekans, but he was fixed on my food.

Finally, I could eat. My pokemon and I were both so starved that neither of us bothered the other while eating. He understood that this was my food, and the girl would hit me again if I didn't let him eat.

Apparently, he didn't feel the need to massacre every pokemon he saw. He got along fine with Jeff the ditto and they made a game out of pretending to attack each other. I learned the hard way that a ditto could transform into other pokemon, though this one hadn't quite mastered the trick. Its snake form always had a weird quality to it that instantly marked it as a ditto, and while it eventually figured out the exact shade of purple it could never get the markings right.

I also learned that the pokecenter offered cheap rooms to trainers. This news made me whoop for joy, earning the curious looks of other trainers. I didn't care what they thought. Without somewhere to stay, I'd be homeless until the Rockets officially moved me into their headquarters (or wherever they housed their members).

Before leaving, the girl asked me, "What's you name?"

I hesitated, not used to the sound of my trainer's name. "Chrome."

The green-eyed girl left without giving me her own.


	3. Disobedience

I rested underneath the shade of a great oak tree a few miles outside of Celadon City. The morning sun's heat reminded me more of a sweltering summer day than the spring coolness it should had brought. This year had already proven itself to be a hot one. The warmth didn't bother me, I had always found myself at a disadvantage in the cold, but I worried about how unbearable the summer would be if it was already this hot.

In my backpack, I counted a grand total of six pokeballs. I had six chances to capture a new teammate before being forced to buy more pokeballs. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I had searched in the four days since becoming a trainer, no worthy pokemon presented themselves. The pokedex indeed mentioned that the stronger pokemon in the surrounding routes were rare, but it hadn't impressed on me just how rare they were until I started searching.

Before long, I'd settle for a weedle. It would obey far better than Seb and a beedrill's foot-long stingers were nothing to poke fun at. The only problem with such a lethal killer was its type. Bug pokemon stood out to me as frail and squishable.

And I'd quickly realized that pokemon _died_ in the wilderness. In Unova, people regarded pokemon training as a honorable pursuit. It hadn't occurred to me that death was a natural part of battling, although now it seemed painstakingly obvious. After all, how could the creatures fight without an occasional death? And what was more, the pokedex included information on how to hunt and consume various species.

With this in mind, how could I choose a pokemon as fragile as a bug?

I held Seb's pokeball and considered letting him out. A bite would be less than helpful to my gloomy mood, but I needed the company. I released him in a flash of light. He flicked his tongue, tasting his surroundings, and glowered at me.

I knew he took those first few seconds to consider if it would be worth it to strike. "I'm not in the mood for any bullshit," I warned.

He accepted this. At the very least, I had chosen a pokemon who could understand human speech. From watching others I had figured out that pokemon didn't immediately understand human words or even their own names. It made teaching them moves and battle strategies extremely difficult, but Seb didn't have this setback. He was intelligent enough to have already learned human language, or at least enough of it to understand the gist of my words.

I wasn't his first trainer, I figured. He didn't listen to me, but he recognized four moves from the pokedex: wrap, leer, poison sting, and bite. Another trainer had taught him to utilize these moves and recognize their names. I wondered if they had also named him. Perhaps Seb hadn't been his first name. Had someone raised him as a beloved pokemon then abandoned him, or had they only raised him enough for someone to start with?

"Are you hungry?" I asked. I had to take my mind off my current thoughts. His eyes narrowed to slits at my question, and I shook my head at the malice contained within. "Look, I already said I'm not gonna starve you. And nothing's laced with poison or the like. You're eating the same stuff I am."

Once I trusted him, I could allow him to wander free and hunt his own food. That day was undoubtfully far away if it even existed.

I placed a couple chunks of uncooked meet a few feet from the tree, far enough that they were out of my reach yet close enough that he'd have to come near me to eat. He didn't move, but I knew he'd eventually give in. Our meals usually ran like this.

Nibbling on a flattened sandwich, I cursed myself for not placing it at the top of my gear. I'd have to remember next time to keep the food above anything heavy. I'd managed to find my backpack for cheap at a pawn shop, and like a pokeball it'd have far more room inside than one might believe. Most things in Kanto contained this technology, from the original pokeballs to refrigerators to expensive one size fits all shoes. Technology truly was a wondrous thing.

I rummaged inside my backpack to occupy myself while waiting for Seb to chance snatching the meat. At the bottom of my bag I had stashed my official Team Rocket uniform. I hadn't tried it on yet, but the black and red outfit seemed intimidating enough from what I'd seen of others. I'd been warned, however, that there were a few places which wouldn't take kindly to someone wearing Rocket colors.

This made sense after I learned that Team Rocket had only last year taken over the government, and there were a few places still bitter about this. People resisted change, after all. I hadn't been there to see, but for all I knew the takeover might had been bloody. They were a fair organization and definitely a better government than whatever corruption had been in place before, however.

In a way I had signed up to be an enforcer of the law. This was a weird concept to accept. I only wanted to do what my parents never allowed me to do, which was to raise fighting pokemon.

And looking at Seb, I doubted if he could ever uphold the law. He couldn't even obey me, his trainer; why would he follow human laws? I had to look at him as nothing more than a weapon unless he suddenly started obeying me. A lethal weapon that could suddenly blow up in my face.

"Fight me!"

I startled at the sudden shouting interrupting my thoughts. Seb appreciated the interruption even less, judging by the rattling of his tail.

The trainer put one hand on his hip and held a pokemon in the other. A green caterpillar the size of my head, it was no doubt a caterpie. "C'mon, you gonna fight or not?" he asked. With both his hands occupied, he couldn't brush his greasy brown hair from his eyes. I estimated him to be a year younger than myself and far less competent.

I stretched, taking my time to answer the impatient trainer. "Why should I?"

"What, you scared? Should be, we're gonna wipe the floor with you and then some." Both he and his pokemon had absolute faith in this statement. I snorted and glanced and Seb. Despite our differences, he obviously had the same disdain for the pair. Probably even more.

I had my reservations about fighting the kid. It would be our first battle against a trained pokemon, and I had no idea how Seb would react. What if he ripped the caterpie to shreds? I didn't think there were any official rules against killing a trainer's pokemon, besides the obvious social stigma against it, but it would still weigh against my conscience. Not to mention that it wouldn't take much effort for Seb to rip open the bug's belly and spill its intestines into the grass.

Sitting in silence, I didn't realize how long I took to answer until the trainer spoke again. "Please? He only needs one or two more battles until he feels he'll be ready to evolve."

Great, we'd be murdering a pokemon right before it evolved. Way to crush a kid's dreams.

"No."

"Fine!" he yelled as the caterpie hissed in his hand. "We'll beat you anyway! String shot!"

Needless to say, Seb didn't take kindly to the glob of silk which then splattered in his face. Nor did I enjoy being dragged into a battle. I leapt to my feet, balling my hands into fists.

"Dammit. Seb, wrap around it!"

Yet even as I spoke, another string shot hit its target and Seb struggled to rush forward, choosing instead to leer at the bug while squirming in the strands on silk. The caterpie took the opportunity to slam into his side and pushed him on his back.

Coming closer was the caterpie's undoing. Seb, not bothered by his change of position, took less than a second to right himself and bit down on his opponent's exposed stomach. It shrieked in pain and thrashed against him, but with the snake starting to wrap, the movements only served to tear open its flesh. Just as I had expected, the caterpie's organs were beginning to slide out along with trickles of pus and green goo. A horrible stench erupted from its bright red antenna, though Seb was too far into his bloodlust to be affected.

Its trainer screamed something at me. I couldn't make out his words over the sounds of the pokemon and my own blood rushing in my ears. The battle had ended almost right after it began. The trainer should had never attacked when I had already refused, this was his own fault, but I couldn't shake a feeling of guilt.

The kid himself ran over to tear his precious pokemon away from my vicious beast. I reacted as soon as he came within striking range; Seb, in the heat of battle, would be almost guaranteed to bite without realizing his actions. Not that he would care about injuring a human. I couldn't make it to them before he did exactly what I feared and the trainer fell back, clutching his arm.

I retracted Seb into his pokeball as I should had done a long time ago and examined the damage. Luckily the kid hadn't been hurt too badly, but I had no idea if Seb had managed to inject venom. He was too young and inexperienced to kill with venom alone and there were plenty of places to seek help within the city, at least. Though I doubted this would make the kid feel any better.

"What the hell, do you sic your freaks on everyone you meet!?" he shrieked. He crawled towards his caterpie and threw his body onto it, sobbing. Heat rushed through my body from how mortified I felt and I bit my lip. If his bug died, it would be my fault for not recalling Seb sooner. Hell, what if the trainer was allergic to the venom and lost his arm?

If Team Rocket found out that I had no control over my starter, I was screwed. They would kick me out for being weak and I'd be on the streets with no money and a single, disobedient pokemon. I'd have to return to my aunt and she'd lock me up for the rest of my life. Shit shit shit. I had to put on a better act of control until I had actual control.

"You should get to a pokecenter and have them check you for venom. I can help you carry your c-"

He interrupted me with a furious scream: "No! Just get away from me!"

"Look!" I snapped. "This is what happens when you attack someone who doesn't want to battle!"

"You didn't have to murder us," he snarled back. And he did have a point, but I wasn't going to back down. He fumbled through his pockets and threw at me a wad of cash. I had completely forgotten the unspoken rule that losers in battles paid the winners, but it hardly mattered now. And then he added, "You might as well join Team Rocket!"

This stunned me into a few moments of silence. Join Team Rocket? What the hell did that mean? "I'm already part of them," I offered. By the look on his face, this wasn't the right thing to say. Perhaps he was one of the bitter radicals I had been warned about. I looked down and saw that my knuckles had turned white from gripping my dog tags. I wasn't sure when I had grabbed them or how long I'd been squeezing so hard.

He appeared to be able to walk, gathering his pokemon in its ball and running past me towards the city, so I figured he'd be fine. Even if his caterpie lived I wouldn't be held responsible for what happened. Injuries were natural in battles. Seb didn't particularly need healing, but I decided to head back to my own pokecenter anyway. Maybe I could try to talk to him about what had happened, see if he really wanted bloodshed. I definitely couldn't handle the guilt and confusion running through my own mind.

I always hated walking through cities. People jostled and shouldered past me without any regard for my safety or the beast in my pocket. Speaking of which, I had to get a better place to keep his pokeball than in my pocket. At least there no one could bump it and accidentally unleash him.

Making it to the pokecenter in record time, I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn't see the trainer with the caterpie anywhere. He must had gone to a different pokecenter. Nor had I seen a sign of the green-eyed girl from a few days ago, but she was the last thing on my mind. I made my way to my room and released Seb onto the bed. He glared at me, obviously suspicious, but I offered him a small smile.

"Can we just talk?" I asked. His hisses weren't a yes, but I didn't care. I knew he could understand me.

"So about back there," I began. "I know that caterpie attacked you, but you know it belonged to someone, right?"

I didn't receive a reply. His eyes narrowed, then he turned his head away from me and stared at the window on the opposite wall. I wasn't surprised that he didn't even attempt to communicate with me, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to keep talking.

"The trainer loved that thing. And you saw how they flowed together. They were annoying, sure, but they clicked together. They were a perfect team and you might have just killed one of them. Don't you feel at least a little sorry?"

No reaction. I tried again: "How would you like it if you loved someone like that, and then they were torn away from you?"

Without warning he sprang, wrapping around my stomach and staring right into my face. His mouth opened as wide as it could go to display the full length of his incisors. It was close enough that I could see faintly colored drops of what might have been venom clinging to the tips. The sound that came from him was different than any he had made before. It was halfway between a snarl and a hiss, but more than that it had both the fury of something that wouldn't hesitate to murder me right then and there and wanted very badly to do so, and another undertone that I couldn't quite place. He tightened his grip as we stared into each other's eyes.

Big golden eyes with vertical black slits. I couldn't look for long. My stomach turned as I fought back waves of terror. One good bite to the jugular would be enough, if he didn't suffocate me first. He made that awful noise again before releasing me and nudging the button on his pokeball. It took him back inside as soon at he pressed it. I stood there in stunned silence even after he vanished.

His absolute disobedience aside... Shit, something had set him off. He had never actually made a move against me before that moment. And now, who was to say he wouldn't do it again? If he thought himself to be in charge I'd be in deep shit. My own pokemon wanted me dead. Not just my own pokemon – my starter.

What the fuck was his problem, anyway?

I was shaking, I noticed. I placed a hand against the wall to steady myself, though it didn't do much good. Fuck that scared me. I had to trade him in for something else, I couldn't deal with a starter that hated my very existence. If they wouldn't let me then I could sell him and use the money to buy something better. I reckoned I could get a common pokemon for cheap, then I could deal with that until I caught something more powerful. Something that didn't want me dead.

I needed something to take my mind off what had just happened. Preferably a strong drink, if the drinking age in Kanto was as nonexistent as in Unova. I released my death grip on my dog tags, once again oblivious that I had even been holding them. _Conner Walker_ , the first line read. If I kept messing with it, the inscription would fade away and become indecipherable.

I debated leaving Seb's pokeball behind, but eventually headed downstairs with it in my pocket. To my surprise, a familiar face waited for me in the pokecenter's lobby. Curtis – or Brutus, I doubted he'd agree to me using his real name – stood with an expectant look on his face. And he stared right at me.

There was no one else around who he might had seen. I questioned why he showed interest in me; I knew nothing of training and definitely wasn't someone that Team Rocket would have special interest in. It was even less likely to be a romantic matter, considering that he looked several years older than me and could easily pick up any girl with his messy chestnut hair and perfect complexion.

Hopefully he waited for me because they had accidentally given me a defective pokemon and owed me a replacement.

"Hey," he greeted. I kept quiet for once. Something about him stopped me from doing anything rash. He intimidated me well enough, but that had never stopped me from being an idiot before. Something else seemed off about him.

Ignoring my silence, he beckoned me forwards and said, "C'mon, we've got something to talk about."

Replacement pokemon, please be a replacement pokemon...

He led me into the pokecenter's seated area and motioned for me to sit. I obeyed, still not saying a word. Maybe they had figured out how useless of a trainer I was and were going to kick me out.

"Heard you got an ekans. How's it working out?"

"Fine," I lied. "He's a killer."

The force of his laughter surprised me, and it was strangely contagious. I couldn't stop a small smile from touching my lips.

"Good, good," he said, then leaned forward. "So I got you that job."

I blinked. A job, right. He'd spoken about that before, but I hadn't expected one so soon. "Cool."

"You're lucky I got you a place in it. It's partially training for some new guys like youself, but unlike you they're mostly a bunch of talentless blokes who got in because of money."

In other words, a bunch of rich jerks who always got what they wanted. I assumed it was an honor or whatever to get a place among them, but it didn't quite add up. I didn't have money or connections. Hell, I didn't even show promise as a trainer.

Fixing him with a hard stare, I voiced my concerns. "That's wonderful and all, but why me? I'm sure there are plenty of other trainers doing way better than I am. And if you give me some 'chosen one' bullshit I'm going to hit you. Hard."

"What, you made a deal with Arceus? Chosen one?" he snorted.

I stammered a reply, but he laughed and told me not to worry about it. "Didn't realize you were unaware," he explained.

"Unaware of what?"

"Why do you think you got in?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. I shrugged an answer. It hadn't ever occurred to me that admittance into Team Rocket could be a significant thing.

"We used to take in all kinds of trainers who were poor or didn't have a chance of success on their own," he began. "But ever since we became the government, we've had to be more selective. Most people need to pass tests and start building themselves up before we'll consider them, although we'll still throw them a starter. But we make exceptions. You do know that you were one of the top students in Unova's best academy, right?"

Yeah, that. I tried to forget those years of my life as best I could. Vigorous didn't even begin to describe the education, and the teachers were allowed to take physical discipline against the students. Not to mention the _no pokemon_ rule.

Plus, with the belief that less distractions equaled more learning, we weren't given holidays or breaks away from school. I wouldn't see my parents for seven years after I first entered the academy, and we next met at their funeral.

Great school indeed.

I argued, "But I have zero training experience. I've never even owned a pokemon."

"So?" He tapped his fingers against the table, obviously thinking about something. It was another minute before he continued: "Anyone can train a pokemon, even if not everyone is good at it. But as easy as it is to teach a trainer, we can't teach someone to be smart. Intelligence is a rare commodity in our usual recruits."

"Basically, you guys are giving me special treatment because I'm good at differential equations?"

"Something like that," he chuckled. "We rarely get someone who's educated _and_ wanted to battle for us."

I smirked. "So when do I get promoted?"

"Not so fast. The catch is that if you do badly here, you'll regret it. We're going to use this as a test to judge your training potential."

"...oh." There was always a catch. And considering how well Seb listened to me, I had my doubts about passing this "test". I hadn't had lessons in pokemon training since elementary school, I was useless in real battles.

And I was fucked.

Seeing the despairing look on my face, he said, "It won't be that bad. Doesn't matter how shitty you think you are, you'll look amazing surrounded by some of those idiots. I've seen them in action and let me tell you, they're the most useless-"

"Thanks," I cut in. "But that's not helping. I only have one pokemon."

"Better one than a full team you can't control."

Ha. Haha. If only he knew.

"You in or not?" he asked. "This'll be good a good experience."

"Couldn't I do something when I've trained a little more?"

"I might not find you anything as nice."

I threw my hands up. "Fine, I'll do it! Doesn't sound like I have a choice anyway."

If I had known what would happen, I would had run away screaming until they locked me in a padded cell.


End file.
